


Faces in the Snow

by pikablob



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Families of Choice, Gen, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:54:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24876499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pikablob/pseuds/pikablob
Summary: Willump knows what it's like to forget the ones you love; he's determined not to let the same happen to Nunu.
Relationships: Nunu & Willump
Comments: 7
Kudos: 14





	Faces in the Snow

**Author's Note:**

> Recommended Song: [It's Me & You (Nunu & Willump Theme)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mKISuOpQniQ)

It was getting late. The small fire burned low, casting its sputtering glow over the little gully that served as Nunu and Willump’s home for the night. The snow, turned up by tiny boots and giant paws alike, glittered in the fading light.

Nunu was already fast asleep; he lay on his side under a pile of furs, sandwiched between the heat of the fire and the warmth of his friend. If Willump listened closely he could hear the boy’s soft breathing, regular and content. It filled his old heart with fondness.

He let out a low murmur, looking away from the sleeping child curled against his side and out into the snow. There wasn’t much to see; distantly a few elkyr grazed atop a small hill, silhouetted by the aurora above. They were the only life for miles, but still the old yeti couldn’t sleep.

He was sure there had once been a city here. He could still vaguely remember the shape of the hills, and in his mind’s eye he pictured wooden buildings and narrow streets, dozens of his people walking free. But the memory was blurred; the millennia had worn away much of his recollection.

Everything from that long ago was muddled, buried under the weight of years and replaced by newer things. He could no longer recall the faces of his fellow yeti, of his mother or his father or his friends, but he could well remember the faces of dozens of warriors he had devoured for trying to steal the crystal. His vigilance had lasted aeons, and at his lowest point even his name had slipped through the cracks of his aging mind.

But then Nunu had swept in and changed everything with a song he had long forgotten. Suddenly Willump was no longer bound to his cave, no longer endlessly guarding the last of his people’s magic. Suddenly he found himself remembering more and more of his past life, and making plenty of new memories to add to the old. He had a family again, for the first time in aeons.

Which was why he was so determined never to let the same happen to Nunu. He had committed every important moment he had with the boy to memory, eager to make sure he would always remember their time together.

A quiet sound of distress cut through his introspection. He looked back down in alarm, only to feel his spike of worry melt into concern at the sight of his companion. Nunu wasn’t sleeping peacefully anymore; he was whimpering and crying, arms wrapped tightly around himself. He was having a nightmare, Willump realised.

* * *

The wagons were burning. All around people were screaming, blades clashed, and the fires roared. A choking stench of ash and blood filled the air. Nunu could barely see, barely hear, barely breathe.

“Mom?!” he cried, stumbling over the bloodstained snow. He looked around frantically, trying to catch any glimpse of her amongst the chaos. “Mom? Where are you?!”

Only the sounds of battle answered. He felt the sting of tears as he scrambled forwards, trying to find his way through the thick smoke. He had to find her, he _had_ to, before it was too late.

Out of the haze he saw the shape of a woman appear, standing beside one of the burning caravans. Her coat was soot blackened and bloodstained, her hair loose; it was too far away to see her face. He tried to get closer, desperate to see if it was her.

Suddenly he felt strong arms wrap around his waist. He tried to pull away, to struggle out of their grip, but whoever it was held on no matter how he twisted and fought. It was no use.

“No!” he cried out, thrashing as hard as he could. “Let me go! Mom’s still in there!”

They started carrying him back, away from the woman and the caravan and everything he’d known. Through the blur of tears, he saw the wagons disappear, the fires ripping them apart.

“Let me go! Please!”

Suddenly his eyes snapped open. He gasped, feeling the brisk tundra air fill his lungs. For a moment everything was blurry, before he blinked the tears from his eyes and saw the low-burning campfire before him. It had all been a dream, he realised; he was safe.

Somewhere above him he heard a low, concerned growl. He rolled over slowly, taking deep breaths, until he could see Willump lying beside him. Worry glinted in the yeti’s eyes, and he carefully reached down with one of his massive paws to loosely hug the boy. It made him feel warm and safe, and he felt the jitters subside.

“Sorry I woke you,” he sobbed quietly. With a gentle grunt Willump shook his head, explaining he hadn’t been sleeping. He gently pulled Nunu in closer, up against the fur of his chest.

“I- I saw my mom,” Nunu choked out, feeling tears well up again in his eyes, “I think? I was at the caravan, the day it got attacked, a-and there was this woman, but I couldn’t make out her face. I tried to get closer, b-but before I could the Frostguard found me and took me away.” He felt Willump’s paw gently rubbing his back, a small comfort he was grateful for.

For a few moments all he could do was cry. The pain of longing stung somewhere deep in his chest; embers set alight by the nightmare. But his guardian’s paw was gentle against his back, and the fur surrounding him was soft and warm. Slowly he felt the pain die down, his sorrow fizzling; he was still loved, even if his mother couldn’t be here.

Finally, he sniffed away the last of his tears. He tried to remember the woman in the dream; already it seemed fuzzy and distant, but he tried to picture her as best he could. He was pretty sure it had been his mother; that was what she had looked like, right?

He thought back to before, trying to remember. He could still clearly hear her voice, and the gentle lilt of her song. He could practically feel her song strands between his fingers, each knot a memory. But the image of her face eluded him; when he tried to picture it everything looked off. The realisation settled in his gut, as cold as True Ice; he had forgotten.

He felt fresh tears well up as panic bubbled in his stomach. Willump seemed to sense his change in demeanour, shifting back and looking down with fresh worry in his eyes.

“I- I can’t remember,” Nunu stammered out, sniffling loudly, “I can’t remember her face.” He hated how his voice cracked. Willump’s expression softened, and he let out a reassuring growl.

“No, Willump, it’s not okay,” the boy protested. “What if we find my mom and I don’t recognise her? What if she doesn’t recognise me?” He broke down sobbing, voice reduced to a whisper. “What kind of hero can’t even remember who they’re trying to save?”

Willump’s reply came out as a low, gruff rumble. Gently he assured the boy that he still remembered her, even if he couldn’t picture her face. Slowly Nunu felt himself calming; he rubbed at his eyes, not feeling convinced.

“But-” The yeti cut him off with a grunt. “Okay,” he said quietly, “I trust you.”

Carefully Willump raised one of his free arms. As Nunu watched the swirling patterns on his arms lit up blue, and from his paw a stream of magical light, a mini aurora, floated down to the snow beside the campfire. It wasn’t the first time the boy had seen him do this; still, he watched with interest as the shimmering light contorted to display one of the yeti’s memories.

Yet this time it wasn’t the pair of them playing, or any of the many magical places they had been. Instead an image of a boy and a woman riding in a wagon formed in the air, the mother’s arm gently around her son’s shoulders, and Nunu felt his breath catch in his throat.

“That’s her,” he breathed, “That’s mom! But how did you…?” Another grunt served as answer. “The crystal… you mean when we first met?” Willump nodded.

Nunu thought back; this time the memory was clear. He could still see the interior of the cave, visions of all the heroes from his mother’s songs floating around him, brought out by the magic crystal the yeti had protected. Had Willump seen his own past among them?

With another low growl he explained; when he had accidentally shattered the boy’s flute, the crystal had reflected Nunu’s grief, and in that moment he had seen all.

The magical image of his mother faded, leaving the final embers of the campfire visible behind it. Nunu turned back to Willump, feeling a growing warmth inside. He reached out, grabbing fistfuls of soft blue fur and hugging the yeti as hard as he could.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, a faint laugh bubbling up from somewhere deep inside. Willump have a throaty chuckle in return, gently embracing the boy with two massive arms. “I, I love you, best friend.” He growled again, softly. This time Nunu did laugh, properly. “And I know you love me too.”


End file.
